


to love

by haetae



Series: in the darkest nights, i will be there [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Au Ra Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Canon-Typical Violence, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character, and ends up falling in love along the way, in short: local wol ends up in an accidental family with small elf and tall grump au ra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-05-07 06:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14665479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haetae/pseuds/haetae
Summary: In which an Au Ra ends up finding a tiny family in Ishgard. From there, he discovers love in all of its wonderful and terrible forms.(Archived.)





	1. where it starts

It has not been long since Fray’s body is carried off by the chirurgeons of Whitebrim.

There’s a heavy weight on his shoulders as Masaki turns to face Lord Drillemont. He expects disgust, outrage, and more from the man, even after everything that’s happened in the last bell. Instead, the man gingerly places a hand on the Au Ra’s shoulder. Masaki can’t help but tense at the contact.

“We owe you a great debt after all that’s happened,” he says firmly. “None shall speak of what transpired here, I promise you this.”

The tension eases a fraction as guilt churns in his stomach. His Darkside…. No,  _ he _ had hurt all those knights. Surely a commander cannot forgive someone who attacks his men as  _ he _ did. Lord Drillemont seems to sense Masaki’s doubt because he pulls his hand away with a loud clearing of his throat.

“Do not give me that look, Warrior of Light. You protected us and came to our aid time and time again. That much I can respect and be grateful for.”

Masaki wishes he didn’t  _ have _ to protect them from his own self, but he’ll let the matter go for now. He offers Drillemont a weak smile and returns the gesture with a tentative pat on the shoulder. Even if the commander looks just as awkward as Masaki about… whatever this exchange is, Drillemont replies with a small yet genuine smile. In the end, the Au Ra is rather glad that no one is particularly upset or extraordinarily injured from the whole affair.  _It is sheer luck_ _that everyone was spared_ , the voice in the back of his mind hisses,  _not skill_.

He knows.

Someone clears their throat. Masaki turns his attention to a nearby knight who shuffles nervously in place. He flicks his eyes back to Drillemont, who nods and wordlessly releases him to his own devices. 

The knight walks up to Masaki, fingers fidgeting strangely, before clearing his throat again and straightening himself.

“I-I just wanted to thank you,” the knight stammers out, “and… I have another matter to speak with you about. Would you like to follow me to someplace more private?”

There’s something instinctual in him that screams  _ don’t follow _ and Masaki hesitates for a split second. He swallows down his hesitation and follows the knight anyway. If there’s a trap, he’s prepared. The weight of the greatsword on his back reminds him that he is not helpless.

The knight takes them some ways away from the camp and Masaki already knows that there’s something off. He can’t see the camp from their spot. Inwardly, he heaves a deep sigh. Sometimes, he wonders why he even gives these people a chance. He stops in his tracks while the knight continues walking. The knight seems to notice and turns around to face him.

A tense silence passes between them.

“I don’t know why they hail you as a hero,” the knight finally spits out venomously. Masaki feels too tired to feel riled by the knight’s tone—he’s more mildly amused than anything, really.

After all, he never asked for any of this when he first started this nonsense.

Then the knight turns his head. “Get him!”

His greatsword slides from its sheath as more knights spring out from their hiding spots. With one great swing, he slashes through chain mail and guts three charging knights. Their blood spills in arcs on the snowy ground. It’s enough to make the rest of the attackers think twice about charging.

Masaki bares his fangs and hisses, goading them on. That sets off their rage, their urge to kill anything draconic. His lips quirk up into a satisfied smile as he dances through their attacks, parrying swords as he goes, and strikes them down one by one. He can’t even feel the resistance of blade against bone, can’t hear the dying screams amidst the chaos of battle.

Then he stops and surveys the damage.

They’re all dead.

He looks up to the lone survivor, who quivers against a boulder.

“Y-you… you  _ monster! _ ” The knight (or is he one of those dissenters?) shrieks at him. “You will p-pay for your c-c-crimes! Ishgard will know your true nature, Dravanian!”

Masaki tilts his head and takes a step forward. The Temple Knight flattens himself against the boulder.

“I will bring you to justice! Dravanian! Wielder of dark arts! This I swear, even if it c-costs my life!”

A new voice cuts in.

“Should we oblige him then?”

Both Masaki and the survivor turn to discover another armored man—one with horns and dark scales and a tail. Masaki goes still.

“Another one?” The knight finally blurts, shaken by the newcomer’s appearance. “S-stay back!”

The stranger snorts before turning to Masaki. His eyes are a piercing, pale green. “Well? Are you going to kill him or shall I?”

Masaki stays where he is, blank-faced and utterly confounded. 

The knight takes this moment to shove him out of the way and runs for it—the Xaela stranger even steps aside as the knight scrambles to escape.

“Leave these lands if you value your lives!” the Temple Knight shouts over his shoulder, “There will not be mercy next time!”

The Xaela are left staring after the fleeing figure with varying degrees of amusement and annoyance. Masaki turns to the stranger with wide eyes. He’d not seen another Xaela for so long—years have probably passed since he’s seen another of his kind. It shows in the way he keep dumbly staring at the stranger’s features: his horns, the scales on his face, and the tail swaying in and out of view. His pale skin makes Masaki think that maybe he is one of the Kagon but… he isn’t sure. 

The stranger raises an eyebrow at Masaki, finally snapping him out of his trance.

“… Is there something interesting about me?” the stranger asks in a tone that suggests he’s losing his patience.

Masaki raises a hand to his own face, remembers himself, then lowers his arm.

“It,” he begins, but his voice cracks and he has to clear his throat before he tries again. “It has been a long time… since I have seen another.”

The stranger shifts.

“… Likewise.” he finally replies after a strange, quiet beat. “I pray you do not make a habit out of following people into obvious traps that get you killed.”

Masaki shrugs at the jab. He can take on whatever these Ishgardians throw at him.

The Xaela sighs and moves in to rest a hand on his shoulder but Masaki subtly turns his torso. That makes the stranger retract his hand. The air becomes a bit too stifling, even for Coerthas’ perpetual winter.

“Have you learned naught from Fray’s teachings?”

At that, Masaki flinches outright. It hasn’t been two minutes since Fray’s body collapsed in front of him and someone is asking after the specter―whoever he was.

The stranger takes that as a confirmation of some sort.

“So you  _ do _ know Fray. I thought he’d met his end at that trial but…”

He glances over Masaki’s shoulder, as if he can still catch a glimpse of the armored enigma, then flicks his gaze back to Masaki. 

“Well. Never you mind that. I am Sidurgu of the―”

He pauses again. Masaki waits for the man to say his tribe’s name but, instead, he shakes his head slightly.

“Pray, meet me in the Forgotten Knight. At the table near the back.”

With that, the strange man named Sidurgu turns his back on Masaki and leaves.

Masaki’s tail flicks behind him in interest but otherwise he stays still for a long time. He finally comes back into himself when a frigid wind stings his bare cheeks. Out of habit, he lifts a hand to his face and flinches from his own icy, gauntleted fingers. Ah. Right. Time to get out of the cold, then.

For what feels like the millionth time, he wishes he had his mask back.


	2. the wages of mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which our warrior of light gets a bit of a wake up call.

Just before turning left towards the Forgotten Knight, he pauses.

He makes his way down to the rickety wooden planks leading down into the Brume and stops at a particular spot. The Au Ra kneels and presses his armored back against the cold, stone wall. He stares blankly at the aged, rotten scenery where Ishgard’s “lowborns” reside. Then he glances up to the pale sky as the winds churn above his head and the barest sprinkle of snow float towards the ground. He will never quite understand the isolation, the gloom, the rules and order of this place.

Then again, his own home had been closed off to the outside world too.

Masaki swallows down his homesickness. Now isn’t the time to daydream anyway―he still has an appointment to keep. He presses gauntleted fingers to the icy ground and closes his eyes, emptying his mind. All thoughts vanish as he zeroes in on the ebb and flow of the world around him. It takes him some time―Masaki realizes he’s getting rusty, to his chagrin―but he manages to sift through the distractions and _sees_.

He catches a glimpse of two Temple Knights dragging in an armored body. They carelessly toss the body against the wall where Masaki is sitting before leaving. What they failed to notice is the soft puff of breath still leaking through the slots of the helmet.

Masaki swallows thickly. This is Fray in his last moments.

There is no strength left in him but still his fingers twitch and his lungs fight for that last breath. Fray weakly lifts an arm and it’s painful for Masaki to watch this dying man struggling to reach the top of his chestplate. But he succeeds and reaches just a bit under the collar to pull out a familiar, jagged stone. The soulstone glows softly before Fray closes his fingers around it and rests his head against the wall, his arm falling to the side.

With one last shuddering breath, Fray dies.

Masaki blinks and gasps sharply. He scrambles to his feet and in his haste, he stumbles and crashes into the wall beside him. Using his Echo always leaves him drained, moreso if the vision is of grief or despair or rage. The Au Ra squeezes his eyes shut as if that’ll lessen the pain Fray’s last memory brings. (It doesn’t.) He didn’t even know Fray. The Fray he knew was just a strange mixture of his own emotions, a spirit, and aether. And yet…

How can he not grieve for a man who died alone and in pain?

He shakes his head. No, he has an appointment to keep. Best get a move on.

With that, he picks himself up and walks away. There are a few citizens on the streets who openly gawk at his horns and tail. Masaki has learned to ignore these looks, especially the ones that are full of awe and the ones of disgust. He is a novelty in these parts―or something to that effect. As long as no one goes near him, he’ll be fine.

Fortunately there’s no incident on his way to Forgotten Knight. Still, Masaki has to steel himself before going in. He’s dealing with a potential fragment of Fray’s past, after all.

But the warm atmosphere inside coaxes him into a sense of safety. The jolly laughter from off-duty knights soothes his nerves as he walks downstairs. His armor barely clanks with each step and he has to wonder about the workmanship that’s been put into his gear. (Light yet sturdy—he’ll have ask about the alloy when he sees Brithael next.)

Masaki beelines to Gibrillont out of habit. The bar owner is a little rough around the edges but he has a soft spot for Masaki after he’d helped him search for a long lost recipe and a fond memory. Gibrillont is polishing a beer glass when he spots Masaki and greets him with a slanted grin.

“‘Ey there lad—need something?”

Masaki glances around before he points to his horns and scales.

Gibrillont squints at him and sets the beer glass down.

“‘Ave I heard anything? Not in particular…” He idly scratches the back of his neck.

Masaki shakes his head, frowns, then opens his mouth.

“‘nother Au Ra.” he says, the words clunky on his tongue. “Scales are black. Like mine.”

He points to the scales on his face again as understanding finally lights up Gibrillont’s eyes.

“Oh. Well, ‘is name’s Sidurgu,” he starts as he picks up the beer glass again and goes back to polishing. “Comes ‘ere so often that I’m starting to wonder if he’s homeless.”

Masaki snorts. He remembers the appointment at that moment and clears his throat.

“Here?” he asks.

Gibrillont blinks at him for a few seconds—then it clicks. “You mean if he’s here right now?”

Masaki nods.

Gibrillont flicks his gaze to somewhere behind Masaki and tilts his head towards that direction. Masaki follows his line of sight to a spot near the fireplace where there’s no people save for a pair playing a round of cards.

Masaki nods his thanks and makes his way over to the table. As he draws closer, he can see that the Xaela from earlier—Sidurgu—is playing cards against… an elezen child? Masaki grabs a seat and sits down between them, taking care not to disturb their current game. He glances over their cards. It looks like the blue cards cover most of the playing area. Masaki doesn’t know the rules they chose for this game but whoever plays the red side is most definitely losing no matter which move they take at this point.

He spies a peek at both of the cards in their hands and raises his eyebrows. The girl has some decent cards but the ones in Sidurgu’s hand are rare cards. How is he losing? Masaki sweeps his gaze back to the game. Oh. They’re playing by the reverse rule. He rolls his eyes. No wonder Sidurgu is getting his arse handed to him.

At that moment, the girl finally chooses a card and places it in the lower right corner on her side. With her move, the game is finished. Sidurgu grumbles and passes off a card to the grinning girl.

“Another round,” he demands.

“Aren’t you waiting for someone?” the girl reminds him.

Masaki chooses that moment to softly clear his throat.

Both of their heads swivel to him and Sidurgu damn near falls off his seat while the girl blinks at Masaki in astonishment. He casually leans his elbow on the table and rests his cheek in his palm as he flashes a cheeky, fanged grin at them both, even adding in a wiggle of his fingers as a greeting.

“Gods—you scared the piss out of me!” Sidurgu complains.

The girl, on the other hand, is quiet but the look in her eyes is something akin to curiosity.

Masaki huffs out a small laugh.

After Sidurgu (mostly) calms down, he glares at Masaki and the girl pipes up.

“Are you a friend of Sid’s?”

Masaki quirks an eyebrow and shakes his head. This is their first meeting (sort of) after all. Sidurgu shoots a look at the girl, who stares back unflinchingly. She’ll grow to be a tough woman one day.

“In any case,” Sidurgu finally speaks after turning his attention back to Masaki, “I did not catch the name of the man who carries on Fray’s legacy.”

Masaki ignores the way his heart leaps to his throat at the name. His voice is craggly from disuse as he says, “Masaki.”

The girl seems a bit taken aback from the sound of his voice―it’s a common enough reaction anyway―while Sidurgu nods.

“I see.”

He straightens himself on his seat and laces fingers on the table as Masaki leans back to avoid touching anyone. His face is schooled into a neutral expression as Sidurgu looks him over in interest.

“What’s an Au Ra like you doing around these parts?”

Masaki swallows thickly. The banquet is still fresh in his mind and he’d rather not revisit those memories so soon. He flicks his gaze around the pub. Gibrillont takes an order from a weary hyur while the off-duty knights begin to drunkenly shuffle out. A few patrons linger in some tables but aside from that the Forgotten Knight is, for the most part, empty. No one is close enough to listen in on their conversation. Well, good. Better that he is Qestiri.

Then he returns his attention to the pair sitting before him, waiting for an answer.

“Not your business,” is Masaki’s answer.

Sidurgu snorts in surprise while the girl looks like she’s choking back a laugh at his reaction. He glances to the girl and playfully winks, coaxing a muffled giggle from her. Then he meets Sidurgu’s squinting eyes and offers him half of a shrug.

“Well?” he prods the other Xaela. How does he know Fray anyway?

Sidurgu looks like his feathers are all ruffled but he puts on an air of nonchalance as he crosses his arms.

“Well what?” he spits back, all prickly and surly. Someone feels a bit put out.

“Fray.” Masaki mutters, his voice beginning to tire. “How…?”

Sidurgu grunts and unfolds his arms.

“… We trained together under the same master.” he replies after a hesitant beat. “Aside from that, I have something important to discuss with you.”

Masaki lets the mirth die in his eyes as he leans forward in interest.

The other Xaela takes this as a cue to continue. “Given the circumstances I wager you got that soulstone of yours, I fear you do not truly understand what it means to be a dark knight.”

Masaki stiffens. After all that? After everything he’s been through for the past several moons, he _still_ doesn’t understand? He can feel the telltale signs of indignant fury rising from his stomach to his throat but he squashes it down before it overwhelms him. His whole demeanor has turned frosty as he regards Sidurgu―who, frankly, can’t care less about how riled up Masaki is already.

“The first of us bared steel against the clergy―this is true. He sacrificed everything he held dear in the name of justice. So must all who walk in his footsteps.” he continues, his eyes hard and unyielding as he meets the other’s cold, odd-colored gaze.

Masaki crosses his arms and fixes him with an equally steely look, so he continues.

“Mayhap you think this will earn you the love of the common man,” Sidurgu says—but that’s as far as he gets before Masaki slams his hand down on the table.

It startles Rielle up and off the table and Sidurgu stands up, ready to draw his sword until a loud cough stops him. Gibrillont is watching them. He scowls at the glaring Au Ra before turning to Rielle.

“Go back to the room.” he murmurs quietly to her. She nods quickly and skitters away, eager to escape whatever strange confrontation this was.

Sidurgu sits back down with a sigh and goes back to glowering at Masaki.

“Well. You simply could’ve said something instead of scaring the seven hells out of my charge.”

Masaki remains silent but he at least seems  to have the decency to look ashamed at his outburst.

“Right, back to what I was saying—”

“I _know_.”

… This one has a penchant for interrupting people. Sidurgu finds his irritation rising as he openly scoffs at Masaki.

“Oh? Do you now? Then surrender your sword and soulstone to me.”

Almost predictably, the Au Ra looks down and continues to be stubbornly silent. It drives Sidurgu to near _rage_ at how childish this one is being.

“You spared a man who tried to murder you.” he accuses. “Mercy, some would call it. Idiocy, I name it.”

That gets a flinch from Masaki. Good. He needs to learn.

“Aye, that’s right.” Sidurgu begins to goad as he leans in a little closer. “I followed him and gave him the _mercy_ he truly deserved.”

Masaki doesn’t say anything for a while and Sidurgu thinks he might’ve finally gotten his point across until—

“My _mercy_ ,” Masaki begins, “is cutting that man’s allies down one by one until he was left. And he would live knowing those knights died because of him.”

Sidurgu is so close to _throttling_ this man.

“Why do you think I am the only Au Ra you’ve seen in this godsforsaken ice prison?” he growls. “It is because my people fled Garlemald’s incoming armies to a land where we were mistaken for another nation’s mortal enemy. Unfortunately for them and fortunately for us, we did not die so easily.”

Masaki finally looks up then but there’s apprehension in his eyes. Sidurgu continues, lets the festering rage mold his words.

“We spared them and sent them on their way. How do you think those Ishgardians repaid our kindness?”

He holds Masaki’s gaze. “I was the only survivor.”

Sidurgu stands up then and looks down at the Au Ra. It was clear from the moment he met Masaki that his heart will kill him one day. If there’s a half-decent reason why Fray would give this stranger their soulstone, then Sidurgu will make sure the idiot won’t run himself into an early grave like the rest of the Orl tribe.

“Make no mistake. These are the wages of mercy.”

He turns around to head back to his room but he pauses. Sidurgu glances over his shoulder to see the stony faced Au Ra still staring at him. He meets that odd-colored gaze evenly.

“If you would walk the path, then you must accept this truth,” he says and finally turns his back on Masaki. “… for your enemies already have.”

Masaki watches as Sidurgu walks away.

He slumps back in his seat and closes his eyes. It’s been a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhh i don't know how this ended up being an argument towards the end but oh well!!! /shrug
> 
> this also wasn't beta'd lol pls forgive


	3. divine intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which our fair warrior of light lets loose in battle for once and makes meager progress with a couple folks.
> 
> non-beta'd and written in a rush whoops- enjoy! :'D

There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he receives the news—then an all-consuming surge of protective rage nearly blinds him with red.

It takes all of his strength to restrain himself from outright _slaughtering_ the men who dared laid their hands on the two people he promised to protect with his life. Masaki has to close his eyes and slowly exhale before he can properly address the kind Count with a stiff nod. He turns heel and nearly breaks down the door in his unstoppable march towards the Congregation. Passersby immediately flee Masaki’s direct line of sight which, frankly, puts him a little more at ease knowing that no one will bar his way from saving his friends from these vile nobles and their penchant for using innocents as _playthings_ in their twisted game of kharaqiq.

His anger must be seeping through his control too much because the Temple Knight who stands guard at Aymeric’s office seems to quake and lets him through without another word. By the time he arrives at the office, his anger is sedated. (At least, for the time being.) Masaki greets the three parties inside with the same stiff nod he gave the Count.

“Ah, Masaki!” Haurchefant greets cheerfully, “I was about to step out the door to fetch you!”

At that, Masaki’s irritation flares for a hot second before it dies down to reluctant fondness. He has to remind himself that the man only means well.

“That they would regard the Scions this way even after you stood with us on the Steps of Faith… ‘tis a bad comedy.” Lucia remarks with a stony look of barely concealed frustration. The darkness over her face passes. “Yet unlike the grave injustice you suffered in Ul’dah, this wrong can be swiftly righted.”

“How?” Masaki bites out before he can hold himself back. The others are briefly stunned for a moment before Aymeric clears his throat.

“Well, considering all our options—” Aymeric begins to say, but finds himself cut off by the Au Ra looming over his desk with gauntleted hands splayed against the wood.

“ _Tell me._ ” he presses with an edge of desperation in his voice. Masaki cannot afford to lose anymore people in his life, he _cannot_.

Aymeric softens, his brow creased with concern.

“Trial by combat. Master Alphinaud’s magical talents will have not gone unnoticed, but—”

“Okay.”

Masaki leans back and begins marching out before Aymeric can say anything else.

“Wait, Masaki, you will be facing two of the Heaven’s Ward—”

The Au Ra abruptly halts and turns to face the room with a disturbingly calm look that ignites a sense of danger in Aymeric. Lucia doesn’t say a word but she takes a subtle step closer to him, as if ready to defend him from some imminent threat. Haurchefant, for his part, appears mildly unaffected.

“I do not care,” Masaki says quietly. “I will fight the world for them.”

Then he leaves.

 

* * *

 

When he arrives at the Tribunal, he has already shed his greatsword and heavy armor in favor for light clothes and magic. Though to the majority of present audience, it appears as though he arrived in casual attire without any weapons like he’s prepared for a stroll around the city instead of gruesome combat.

Even the judge looks skeptical. “Will you fight in the stead of Mistress Tataru Taru as her champion in this trial by combat?”

Masaki nods resolutely.

“Very well.”

The guards allow him through as the stands and court transform into a mini arena. He pays no mind to the looks he garners as he steps into the arena with Alphinaud, who looks to him with much relief.

Masaki offers one last reassuring smile to the boy before glancing to the other side, where two armored men step into the arena as well. One with an eyepatch, the other with dark skin and light hair. Both of them are armed with axes. The Au Ra lets his gaze settle on the man with the eyepatch before flickering towards the other man. Beside him, the boy trembles ever so slightly as he pulls out his grimoire. Masaki gives Alphinaud’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before pulling away.

“O Halone, render unto us Your judgement!”

This is no different than fighting in the Steppes, Masaki reassures himself as he takes a few calming breaths.

“Raise up the righteous and cast down the wicked!”

Masaki snaps his fingers and lets the flames engulf his hands and forearms as the two armored men lurch forward.

Alphinaud summons a carbuncle—one in a unique color—but Masaki zeroes in on the man with an eyepatch. He darts in low as the man swings wide and dives upwards to claw at the man’s face with flaming hands. The man manages to duck away from the flames but he curses at getting his chin singed. “Damn it—!”

Alphinaud saves Masaki by hurling a spell at the one-eyed man while his carbuncle keeps him occupied.

The other man shouts as he swings his axe at Masaki but Masaki twists his body away. A sting flares up on his side but he pushes through it as he strikes his foot against the stone ground like a match and lobs a flaming kick at the other man.

“The hells are you?!” The blonde man barely manages to block Masaki’s kick with the handle of his axe and pushes back until Masaki’s focus breaks at the sound of chains and Alphinaud’s cry.

He looks away and suddenly finds himself flying across the arena and skids along the ground on his stinging side. The pain is so _overwhelming_ but he channels it into energy, just like Fray taught him, and stumbles back to his feet. Masaki reorients himself and soon sees red.

The man with the eyepatch has chained Alphinaud in the air. Alphinaud’s carbuncle throws dark pulses of energy at the man to make him release its master but the man holds steady.

“Masaki—a little help!”

A roar rips through Masaki’s throat as he lunges for the chains. The blonde man takes the opportunity to lunge for him again.

Masaki is faster this time. He lashes out by spitting fire in the man’s face and aiming a kick at the man’s armored fingers—hard enough that he hears the telltale sound of bones breaking.

The man bellows in pain as he tires to rid himself of the fire while Masaki works on freeing Alphinaud. Masaki has to force himself to ignore the chains clinking and concentrates on summoning his strength. With a yell, he tears the metal links apart. He catches Alphinaud as the boy falls and rolls away from the incoming swing of an axe.

At that moment, Alphinaud’s carbuncle jumps up to claw at the man’s face. He yowls and stumbles, trying to get the creature off his face, and Masaki takes that moment to get up and disarm the man of his axe. As soon as the axe clangs against the stone floor, he strikes his foot against the ground like a match again and throws a roundhouse kick at the man’s blindside.

The man goes down howling, clutching at his burnt ear.

Masaki stomps over to his fallen opponents and picks up the blonde one by the collar. He winds back his arm and lets astral fire engulf his fist as he bares his fangs at the man. _This is the man who dared to endanger his friends._ Just before he can throw the punch, the man bares his teeth and growls.

“I forfeit! I forfeit. Halone’s tits—don’t fuckin’ burn my face a second time.” he snarls, even raising his hands in surrender.

The other one groans and raises a hand. “I forfeit as well. By the Fury… ugh, this is going to hurt like the seven hells for a while.”

Masaki stubbornly holds onto his rage for a moment longer until Alphinaud politely coughs. He lets go of Grinnaux and watches dispassionately as he flops back to the ground with a pained groan. When Masaki looks up, he’s met with looks of fear and… awe?

“Halone has spoken!” the judge announces.

With that, Masaki lets the rage simmer to relief.

 

* * *

 

He fusses over Alphinaud and Tataru afterwards until they forcibly sit him down and tend to the injuries he accumulated in the fight, namely the long gash trailing up his side and various scrapes and bruises. Yet Masaki stubbornly fusses over them until they finally boot him out of the manor for their own sanity (and much to Count Edmont’s amusement).

With nowhere else to go, he decides to head towards the Forgotten Knight for shelter.

When he opens the doors to the tavern and walks downstairs, all conversations grind to a halt. Masaki looks up and sees that everyone is staring at him with wide eyes. He ducks his head and beelines straight to Gibrillont, who casually fills up a flagon of ale for a patron.

He waits until the background noise of chatter slowly starts up again and breathes a sigh of relief once it does.

Gibrillont slides a glass pint of what smells like mulled wine towards Masaki.

“You’re the talk of the town, lad.” the barkeeper comments with a tilted grin. “A free drink, on me.”

Masaki looks down to the offered glass pint and murmurs his thanks before he hesitantly drags the drink towards his person. They’ve only known each other for a few weeks at best… and so far, the barkeeper has a neutral disposition. If he wanted to poison or hurt Masaki, he’d have done it sooner like the wretched nobles of this place have already done. So Masaki allows himself a small sip.

There’s a slightly fruity note to the taste but it’s balanced with something floral and earthy in the drink…. This must be the recipe he helped Gibrillont find. He smiles and takes another sip, letting the wine soften his senses somewhat as his chest grows warm.

“And you look remarkably well after goin’ up against two members—both axe-wielders, mind you—of the Heaven’s Ward.” Gibrillont says. “Your friend, the one you picked a fight with the other day, tells me he saw your performance at the trial. He was impressed, from the sounds of it.”

Masaki suddenly sits up straighter at the mention of Sidurgu. He talks to Gibrillont? He saw the fight? But why? Wasn’t Sidurgu mad at him for being… himself? (Granted, that entire conversation could’ve gone better but…) Then he finds himself flushing from shame at the memory of their strange spat. He swallows the rest of his pint in hopes that’ll push away that hot shame but, instead, it settles in his stomach with the drink. Ugh.

“Oh, and he said to direct you to his room if you showed up here.” the barkeeper adds casually and somehow Masaki chokes on air. Gibrillont raises an eyebrow and shrugs. “Whatever’s between you two is none’a my business but keep the noise down, alright?”

Masaki splutters even more and attempts making sense of the nonsense coming out of Gibrillont’s mouth.

“B-b-b—wh? N-no…! Wh?!” is about the most he can say at the moment.

“His room is past that door, down the hall, and to the left. Tis the third door.” With that, Gibrillont cheerily waves Masaki off, takes his empty glass pint, and moves onto the next patron.

Masaki stares vacantly at the empty space that the barkeeper occupied just moments ago for a while. Then he miraculously finds himself on his feet walking towards the direction Gibrillont pointed out and following the barkeeper’s instructions. Third door on the left…

He stops at the door and pauses. His tail twitches from uncertainty. If he goes in… then what? After that spat, he’s not sure how those two will treat him. Masaki has to swallow back the rising bile. That girl with Sidurgu… she reminds him too much of that child from what feels like another lifetime ago. The Au Ra clenches and unclenches his bandaged hands a few times, letting the sting of his scrapes and burns ground him before he gets lost in the past. And Sidurgu…. He’s seen the look in his eyes. That’s a look a proud child of the Steppes would often wear—another reminder of the home he left behind.

The pair of them remind him of _home_ for some reason. And that scares him. After the bloody banquet, he… he couldn’t _begin_ to think of home. Having a home means he can lose everything in one fell swoop all over again and he _can’t_ bear it a third time.

He steadies himself with a few calming breaths. Whatever, it’s probably some sort of leftover business from that whole Fray situation.

His knuckles twinge when he knocks on the door. Masaki waits with bated breath.

The door opens to a familiar elezen child. She looks up at him and starts to balk slightly. Masaki cringes. Man, he really messed up last time.

“Oh. It’s you.”

Her cold greeting shouldn’t sting like it does but Masaki pushes through with a hesitant smile. She blinks at him a few times before she opens the door wider and steps aside. Masaki ducks his head and shuffles into the room.

Sidurgu looks up from the book in his hands Masaki scans the room.

It’s small, for one. There seems to be only one cot in the entire room shoved to one corner and a bunch of wadded up blankets in another corner. A small, wooden table, a couple chairs, and a fireplace are the only other furnishings that adorn the rather cramped space. The fire is dead at the moment, leaving a strange chill in the room that Masaki wants to chase away with his flames. One wall of mortar and cobblestone has a tiny, frosted over window looking out over what Masaki assumes is the Brume, considering that the Forgotten Knight is within that area of Ishgard.

He looks back at the two occupants and watches as the girl closes the door behind him and flops onto the cot as Sidurgu returns to his book. Masaki fidgets. What’s he supposed to do…?

Sidurgu doesn’t look up as he gestures to the only other available seat across from him.

Masaki slides into the seat and immediately wishes he’d worn something thicker than his mage attire. He idly rubs the gooseflesh from his arms as he glances about the room, unsure where to settle his nervous gaze.

“You look like shite.”

Sidurgu closes his book with a solid _thump_ and sets it down on the table between them. The girl in the corner gasps loudly and suddenly sits up to point an accusing finger at Sidurgu.

“Sid! Language!”

“Sorry,” he says unapologetically and looks at Masaki. “You look awful.”

Masaki rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. He’d only fought in a trial just bells ago—of _course_ he’s going to look like shite.

“You fought in a trial by combat, I heard.” Sidurgu sniffs and crosses his arms as he avoids Masaki’s gaze. “… I thought it’d be like Fray dying all over again.”

Masaki blinks as something in his chest blooms warmly. Must be the wine from earlier.

“I wish we could’ve seen it,” the girl murmurs mournfully. “People say you fought with your bare hands and made fire with your kicks.”

… Word seems to spread fast. Masaki hums in acknowledgement as he glances down to a palm covered in bandages. Are Ishgardians so unused to seeing magic in action…?

“In any case, is it true that you went in without a weapon?” Sidurgu questions with a strangely wary look in his eyes.

Masaki looks up and cocks his head in confusion. Is that…?

“My body is a weapon.” he replies slowly. “I use magic to fight.”

Sidurgu’s brows raise as he leans back in his seat.  “Then why is it that you took up the mantle of the dark knight if you’re already so skilled in such magical arts?”

Masaki looks down at the book between them, not comprehending the characters written on them, and raises his bandaged palms for him to see. Old burn scars stand out against brown skin as if someone had painted his palms and arms in various pale hues. Sidurgu doesn’t say anything but the girl covers her mouth in horror.

“I am not skilled.” he says quietly as he lowers his hands. “That is why I lost many people.”

He swallows thickly and pushes back the memory of that blood banquet to the back of his mind.

“I cannot lose anymore people.” Masaki murmurs. His fingers curl into fists in his lap. “I want to train in the dark arts. To protect. I cannot… I cannot just _destroy_ anymore.”

His voice grows hoarse and peters out towards the end into a whisper. Sidurgu regards him with a neutral look that Masaki can’t read as the girl stares at him inquisitively from her spot on the cot.

“… You have conviction, that much I’ve known.” Sidurgu leans forward on the table and laces his fingers together. “And you still wish to walk the path in spite of everything. Very well. For the time being, I will train you properly in the ways of dark knight combat.”

Masaki straightens in his seat and leans forward.

“But first things first—get some godsdamn rest.”

The girl stands up on the cot with hands on her hips. “Sidurgu Orl, I’ll smack you if you keep using language like that.”

Sidurgu rolls his eyes with a loud scoff. “Yes, Rielle.”

Masaki slumps back in his seat and barks out a harsh laugh. And it took to make up with these two was to show up looking beaten up as all seven hells.


	4. swordplay and thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training picks up and the warrior of light starts to reflect...

“How the hells have you survived this long when your stance is like that? More importantly, how have you not broken your back yet?”

Masaki glowers at Sidurgu.

Fray didn’t say anything about his stance when they first started training… but Masaki puts aside his gripes and widens his stance at Sidurgu’s behest. Nearby, Rielle perches on a wooden beam and practices her spellwork with white magic. Masaki notes that the make of her maple wand seems… cheap and, well, low quality. It’s as if she’d been handed some random stick and told to use magic with it. He makes a mental reminder to grab some _actual_ quality wood and have a carpenter friend to craft a better wand for her.

“And you’re too easily distracted.” Sidurgu barks, coming in fast with a swing of his greatsword. Masaki only barely manages to deflect it but he’s too slow to parry the next hit—so he dodges instead. “Come now, this is just light sparring!”

Despite spending the past several moons conditioning his body and adding new skills and weapons in his arsenal, he struggles to match Sidurgu’s sheer force and skill when it comes to swordfighting. Turns out that wielding a sword a little bigger than your entire body and weighs half your body weight can be pretty difficult. Masaki did decently enough thus far on his reflexes, instinct, and willpower alone, but now he begins to see how right he is in his own self-assessment: that he needs to become _stronger_ , more familiar with this blade before he can hope to protect anyone with it. Before he can hope to walk the path of a dark knight with certainty.

At the moment, however, Sidurgu solidly wipes the floor with him. Masaki lands on the cold, unforgiving (and worryingly familiar) floor for what feels like the nth time today before Sidurgu decides that’s the end of their sparring session. He watches as Masaki groans in complaint and drags himself up from the floor. Then Sidurgu tosses Masaki’s discarded sword at him not even half a second later. Masaki fumbles but manages to catch it from clanging against the ground in time and lobs an unamused glare at an unrepentant Sidurgu, who shrugs in turn. Rielle chooses that moment to look up from her own training session and observes their exchange while Masaki snorts at Sidurgu indignantly and sheathes his greatsword.

Sidurgu crosses his arms and gives Masaki an appraising look. His analysis rushes forth from his mouth like an overwhelming, brutal tidal wave.

“You lack the upper arm strength to hold up your sword properly. You lack stamina. You lack force, technique— _experience_ , perhaps, but that can be arranged—and, most of all, you lack conviction in your _blade_. How are you supposed to walk the path if you can’t trust your own sword to keep you alive?”

Masaki tries not to visibly wince at the harsh criticism. Where Fray frustrated him with purposeful ambiguity, Sidurgu provides the desperately needed transparency that Masaki is all too relieved to hear. He focuses on that relief, on plans to cover said weaknesses—shoving away the hurt and memories of Fray—and nods resolutely. It’s good to have a teacher who can directly point out his potential to improve again.

Sidurgu must like the look on Masaki’s face because his expression softens a fraction. “We’ll work on basic swordplay. I expect at least some decent swinging before we meet again.”

Masaki nods again. The biting cold of Coerthas finally catches up to him now and it’s hard to fight off the chill when he’s wearing an alloy that isn’t incredibly resistant to the cold. Not to mention…

He glance up and sighs. They’re in one of the lower levels of Ishgard where the sunlight is slow to reach, away from the more heavily patrolled areas. Down here, Ishgardians are slightly more lax than than their upper-level brethren. Or so he’s told. Every elezen or hyur they’ve come across has skittered away or given them a wide berth. The only upsides Masaki sees is that no one has gone out of their way to harass them and it feels a fraction more “safe” than walking around in The Last Vigil does.

The tug at his gauntlet shakes him from his thoughts. Masaki looks down to see the inquisitive Elezen child staring at him. She’s much braver than he first expected, especially after his show of… “dissent”, as it were.

“You keep staring at my wand.”

Masaki nods slowly and rubs the back of his neck.

In the distance, he can hear Sidurgu scoff as he clears the area of any evidence that they were ever there. “Is that why you were so distracted during our spar?”

Masaki wants to say no, that’s not true, he’s still _learning_ because all of this is on instinct than any consistent training but he keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he focuses his attention on Rielle.

“It is… weak. I can make a stronger wand for you.”

Rielle seems to brighten at this offer and it almost makes Masaki smile too until she frowns in thought. He tilts his head at her in a silent question and she seems to understand right away.

“What’s in it for you?” she asks.

Masaki is almost taken aback by the question and furrows his brow.

He shrugs. “See you grow.”

And he’s earned himself a stranger stare from Rielle because, yes, that seems a bit strange now that he’s said it aloud.

“Why?” Rielle asks.

If he’s aware of Sidurgu paying close attention to their conversation, Masaki doesn’t show it on his face.

“You remind me of someone from home.” he replies softly.

Rielle mimics his head tilt. “Who?”

Masaki doesn’t answer that question. He shepherds a confused Rielle towards an intrigued Sidurgu. The look on Sidurgu’s face is hard to read but he doesn’t bother trying to decipher it as he follows Sidurgu and Rielle through twists and turns of Ishgard’s streets. That’s easier than thinking about the past. Before he knows it, they’ve made it back to the Forgotten Knight and the skies have considerably darkened. Now that it’s darker, he can probably sneak back into the Fortemps manor.

“Stay with us.”

Masaki blinks owlishly at the offer and tilts his head. Sidurgu rolls his eyes.

“Warrior of Light or not—whatever name they call you these days—you’re still going to attract attention with your horns and tail.” The other Au Ra points out. Suddenly Masaki feels a bit self conscious about his scales. “Best to stick with us in the meantime before someone tries to kill you again.”

Now Masaki is the one rolling his eyes. But… hm. He glances towards the streets with a worried frown. Alphinaud and Tataru will probably fret about his disappearance but not enough to warrant a search party… right?

“Sid, I’m freezing.” Rielle quietly complains, snapping Masaki out of his thoughts.

He watches as Sidurgu pulls out a pouch and presses it into Rielle’s hands. “Go inside and ask Gibrillont if he has a room to spare.”

The girl nods and quickly disappears into the tavern. Sidurgu stays put and levels a look at Masaki, one that makes sends a chill through his bones.

“Tell me, what did Fray teach you?” Sidurgu asks bluntly. “Your swordwork is abysmal but I could practically see the aether flowing out of you.”

Masaki clenches his hands nervously. Does that mean anything? Somehow Sidurgu seems to read the confusion clear on Masaki’s face and snorts, but the look in his eyes read astonishment.

“You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you? Did Fray teach you _anything_ about the Darkside?”

Wait… Masaki sifts through his memories, searching for substantial from Fray’s teachings. All he can remember is the Abyss and… the voices, how he struggled to make sense of the voices he heard in his communions with Fray.

One voice was louder than the rest. _Coward hearted._

Masaki lowers his eyes.

“Abyss…” he murmurs. “I listen… and see into the Abyss.”

Sidurgu is quiet for a moment and hums in thought. “I see.” Then, more quietly to himself, “Explains how you can wield the dark arts well enough.” He straightens then and slaps a hand on Masaki’s shoulder, violently jolting him out of his thoughts.

“Stop standing around in the cold and let’s go inside already.”

Masaki feels out of place but he follows Sidurgu inside, against his better judgement.

* * *

Weak rays of morning sunlight leak through the window onto the creaky floorboards. Masaki twitches and unfurls himself from his spot on the floor. Everything feels stiff and uncomfortable after sleeping in his thick under armor after setting his outer armor aside for sleep. A quick scan of the room tells him that it’s still early morning and Rielle is still sleeping.

But he knows Sidurgu is awake because he’s close enough to touch.

His hand hovers uselessly in the air before he pulls it away. Masaki, for his part, is surprisingly calm.

“… You looked like you were uncomfortable.” Sidurgu answers as though Masaki even opened his mouth to ask. “So… I thought…”

And Masaki mercifully nods in understanding, much to Sidurgu’s relief. (No, Masaki doesn’t actually understand when he’s just woken up but if that’ll dispel the awkward air quicker…) Sidurgu turns his gaze away as Masaki begins to pull on armor. Not that he needs the privacy anyway—there’s nothing wrong with a bit of skin. Ishgardians are weird about that sort of thing but Masaki supposes that it’s an attitude cultivated by necessity, what with the climate and all.

He is particularly silent about his snaps and clanking so he doesn’t wake Rielle.

When he gets up on his feet and straps on his greatsword, Sidurgu nods and gestures to the door. Masaki takes that for the dismissal it is and follows Sidurgu’s unspoken direction. He’s a little surprised that he follows him out the door too.

“Can you meet me in the coming days?” Sidurgu asks him as Masaki opens the door with care.

He blinks owlishly at Sidurgu for a few moments. Then he slowly nods.

“Good. I will call upon you when the time comes. In the meantime, don’t forget what I told you about swordplay. Give me something to work with here, for Fury’s sake.”

That makes Masaki tilt his head curiously. “Do you not remember Nhaama? Azim?”

For a moment, Masaki can see a flash of _something_ in Sidurgu’s eyes before the pale Au ra shakes his head.

“Vaguely. They’re not my gods anymore anyway.”

Masaki hums in thought. “Okay.”

With that, he leaves.

The streets are mostly empty, save for night patrols returning to trade shifts with others and merchants setting up their stalls. Masaki carries himself like a general as he cuts a path through the Brume, straight to The Last Vigil. That seems to be enough to ward off curious bystanders.

As he creeps into the Fortemps Manor (but not before scaring the living daylights out of the poor dozing guard at the door), Masaki is met with a scene of an exasperated Haurchefant whispering furiously at a tall, stern-faced man. Both of them turn sharply at his arrival. Masaki freezes up in turn.

Haurchefant is the first to recover.

“Oh! Masaki, my dear friend!” He greets him with a hearty pat on the shoulder and brief hug. “I was worried for you but full glad I am to see that you are well.”

Masaki feels his face heat from embarrassment. “‘m sorry.”

Haurchefant looks affronted by the apology. He’s quick to reassure him. “Don’t be—”

“You should.” the stern-faced man cuts in, crossing his arms. “I was just accosted now to search for you. You could’ve saved us all a headache by telling us where you went gallivanting to with that… _obscene_ blade of yours.”

Masaki tenses up for a fight, starts to bare his fangs but Haurchefant stays his hand.

“Artoirel, be at ease. He is here and the Scions will be glad to hear of his safety.” He turns to Masaki then with gentle eyes. “Why don’t you rest for now, hm?”

Masaki glares at Artoirel for a few moments longer, earning the Fortemps’ scoff, before he forces himself to let go of his anger. He gives a stiff nod to Haurchefant and retires to the guest room.

There, he sheds himself of the heavy armor and dresses in his light traveling gear. It’s still a bit early, so he’s not sure if he should go meet Tataru and Alphinaud at the moment. It gives him time to reflect. He glances down to a particular bruise over his forearm and hums. That one he got from blocking Sidurgu’s blow with his gauntlet—not the smartest idea but the fastest one he could come up with at the time. Still need more work with technique… aside from that, Masaki wonders about the mysterious request.

What does Sidurgu want him for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im still not happy with this chapter but i wanted get it finished and out of the way so i can move on with the storyyyy


	5. kindred spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the warrior of light helps sidurgu and rielle with something.
> 
> tw: graphic depictions of violence, mention of blood

Alphinaud and Tataru are not pleased when they finally wake and see him.

“We were so  _ worried _ !” Tataru exclaims, wringing the hem of her tunic nervously.

“I should’ve never suggested for you to take a walk if you were going to be  _ gone _ the whole day and night.” Alphinaud says, running a hand through his already messy locks and chewing on the edge of his thumbnail. “After that debacle in the courts, our presence is still not welcome. Not to mention their fear for anything with scales―”

At this, Alphinaud pauses to scoff. “Honestly, a lizard could skitter past them and they’d shout for the dragon killers! How ridiculous! And the fact that they’d even hold  _ you _ in contempt after what you did for them…”

The boy shakes his head. Honestly, Masaki can care less but he stays dutifully silent for the rest of their scolding and fretting until it’s time for his piece.

He pats both of their heads, earning indignant squawks (and another amused look from Count Edmont, who hovers in the hallway to give the trio some modicum of privacy), before he turns serious.

“Remember,” he says in a gently chiding tone, “I do not care.”

“Well we know  _ that _ but―”

Masaki holds up a hand to cut off Alphinaud. The boy snaps his mouth shut.

“I do not care for these  _ games _ the nobles play.” There’s a slight twist to his mouth and a flash of disdain in his eyes but he softens when he regards his companions. “But I know it is important, somehow. So I am careful. Do not think me a fool to risk your safety or mine. Both of you.”

His voice teeters into a rasp towards the end but it gets the message across all the same. They look sheepish and murmur some apologies that he waves off. They only worry, is all. And it’s not like he’s made any attempt to assimilate properly into their current situation, what with frightening the locals with his fanged, fake smiles and taking no small amount of amusement from their reactions. Hm. Maybe he  _ isn’t _ as careful as he claimed but―oh well, that’s neither here nor there.

With that matter settled, he breaks the news to them that he might be going somewhere without them for a bit.

They’re devastated but they understand that sometimes his business isn’t theirs to fret over, just as the logistics of politicking and strategy isn’t his to worry about. Masaki is as nervous to leave them on their own but he knows that they’ll be okay. They’re clever and talented―even if it was their nosing about that got them into the courts, he knows they’ve learned their lesson and that they’re capable of changing the tides to their favor now that they know where and how to tread. They can change the world. And he believes in that, has faith in their abilities. They’re so bright where he’s so dark.

He is no Warrior of  _ Light _ , that is for sure.

But his mind does not dwell on that for too long. Masaki has a meeting to attend soon.

He gathers enough things for maybe a sennight or two. Count Edmont’s sons surely aren’t  _ that _ much of a handful. He only needs to help with a few assignments here and there, maybe beat up some dragon and a crazed villain or something, and everything will work out. Supposedly. (Masaki admittedly didn’t pay too much attention to that part when Alphinaud went over the basics of this so-called plan.)

Before any of that should come to pass, he has only one request to make, now that his companions know.

“Three days.” he says solemnly.  _ Three days for Sidurgu’s favor. _

Artoirel looks constipated while Emmanellain looks baffled. 

“For what?” the younger son asks. 

“Job.”

And Masaki leaves it at that. 

* * *

The icy plains of Coerthas never ceases to put Masaki in a right foul mood. He adjusts the heavy cloak around his shoulders as he navigates thick snow, half-shading the small body walking alongside him. Sidurgu should be scouting the path ahead of them and covering their backs in case Temple Knights come but… worry twists his stomach and fills his throat. The last time Masaki left someone on their own, they wound up dead. He shuts away that memory and focuses on his foggy breath as fat snowflakes drifted down from pale skies.

“D’you think Sid will be alright?” Rielle pipes up. Then she backtracks almost immediately. “I mean, I know he’s strong and all but what if they ambush him? Or…”

The unspoken fear hangs in the frigid air.  _ What if he ends up like Fray? _ Masaki makes a rumbling noise in the back of his throat.

“He will be alright.” he says so decisively and confidently that he almost believes himself.

Rielle looks up at him for a moment, a little taken aback at his conviction.

They haven’t known each other for long but Rielle feels comforted that Masaki is trying to reassure her. So she takes his statement for what it is and agrees with him. Sidurgu will be alright. He won’t end up like Fray too because this time is different. They’re not left fending for themselves blindly anymore—they have direction, a lead ( _ finally _ ), and support. They’re going to be okay. 

Suddenly Masaki halts. That snaps her out of her thoughts. 

Just as she’s about to ask him what’s wrong, he whips around and  _ catches an arrow in mid-flight _ . He scowls at it and then promptly snaps it in half with his fist. 

Rielle’s jaw drops at the sight. How did he―

Masaki grabs her wrist and runs. She shakes herself free from her shock and catches up with him, nearly tripping over herself in the process. They run for what feels like malms until her lungs sting with chill and her throat burns and her tongue tastes like blood.

Masaki curses. Rielle hears horses galloping. They’re coming. She clenches onto Masaki’s gauntleted hand tightly.  _ This is nothing new _ , she tells herself,  _ just run and hide, run and hide. _

“Stay behind me.”

Rielle finds herself staring at Masaki’s armored back, his silhouette shielding her from the elements and men as Masaki draws his greatsword from its scabbard. She notices the pointed wings sticking out from his armor and his blade glinting in the winter sunlight, like a halo. For a moment, Rielle thinks some dark angel has swooped in to protect her. 

Men’s voices ring out like alarums. “It’s the Dravanian! Slay it and kill the girl!”

Masaki stands tall against the Temple Knights, waiting, waiting until their horses are only mere fulms away and—

Rielle shrieks when one of the horses go down screeching, its legs sliced in half and the rider crushed underneath its wildly flailing, legless body. She can hear both the man’s and animal’s dying throes. But Masaki has already dismounted another rider in a similarly violent manner. The remaining Temple Knights on foot attack him with renewed vengeance—Rielle sees several men bearing down on Masaki and remembers  _ Fray _ . Fray, who fought off multiple men at once and yelled at her to  _ run _ .

Masaki stumbles. She cries out.

Something unearthly happens next. An oppressive aura thickens the air and dark tendrils tinged with blood red begin to flicker around Masaki’s legs. Then, he raises his blade towards the sky in the midst of all the chaos. The greatsword is covered in the same dark tendrils.

One knight wildly slashes at Masaki, some blows missing or glancing off his armor. But the hits that connect are just…  _ swallowed _ , somehow, by the dark mist swirling around Masaki. He doesn’t look affected at all. That clearly terrifies the other knights from the way they edge away from him while the panicked knight keeps brandishing his sword wildly.

Rielle watches in horrified awe as Masaki suddenly swings his blade in a deadly arc and cuts down three men at once, including the panicked knight. The only sounds they make are quiet gurgles from bleeding out. With an almost clinical efficiency, he finishes off the rest of the knights. Blood turns the snow surrounding them pink.

And just like that, it’s over. They’ve survived an ambush.

She watches as Masaki prowls around the battleground and searches for anymore threats. After deeming the area clear, he turns back to face her. There’s still steam wafting from the rapidly cooling blood on his blade. His face is splattered with red and his long bangs are matted but his eyes are soft with concern.

“Okay?” he asks in a rough voice.

She minutely nods. That’s good enough of an answer for Masaki. His shoulders slump as he sheathes his sword. Then, not a minute later, he scoops her up into his arms (much to her squeaky surprise). Rielle scrabbles for purchase and settles on awkwardly looping her arms around Masaki’s shoulders while he lightly jogs over the bloody remains of battle. She pointedly looks ahead and tries not to dwell on the rancid smell of death or how her fingers slip against patches of blood on Masaki’s dark armor. She tries not to look at his face directly.

He doesn’t seem  _ too _ out of breath and his arms don’t tremble under her weight like she expects them to. Rielle is thirteen winters old, after all―even Sid has a hard time carrying her around no matter how silent or sullen he gets. But she doesn’t say anything even if some parts of Masaki’s armor dig into her sides uncomfortably.

“Your armor has wings.” she blurts out in the ringing silence.

Masaki doesn’t pause but he gives a thoughtful hum to let her know he’s listening. If she wasn’t rattled by their recent encounter, she could spy some dry amusement in his lip twitches.

“Nn.” he finally answers.

“They make you look like an angel.”

That earns her a sharp bark of a laugh.

“Pathetic wings, no?”

Rielle pulls herself up a little to peer over Masaki’s shoulder. The wings  _ are _ a bit tiny… 

Masaki decides to humor her then. “Angel is a good being, yes?”

She nods and half-curls, half-wriggles into a ball. The wind is particularly unforgiving in these parts and she can still feel the chill through her thick coat.

“I am not good being.” he says. “I am demon. Monster.”

“But you protected me.” Rielle points out. “You agreed to help me and Sid even though there was nothing in it for you. Not even dark knight training.”

Masaki hums. “I cannot stand by when those…  _ beasts _ hurt  _ you _ .”

Rielle can feel him turn cold and dark. She swallows down her fear and raps on his breastplate to get his attention. The sound of metal clanging brings him back to the present.

“It’s okay. You killed them all. They won’t hurt me anymore.”

Masaki softens and tension ekes out of his shoulders.

“You should not have seen that. I should have told you to cover your eyes.”

“I’ve already seen it. Sid and Fray killed knights to protect me too.” she says bluntly with a shrug. “And now  _ you _ protected me. So I don’t think it really matters anymore.”

Masaki doesn’t answer with a protest like she anticipates―he just stares off into the distance with a strange look in his eyes.

“You have seen people die then.” he says in a blank sort of way.

Rielle makes an affirmative noise and huddles closer to Masaki. He seems to radiate heat in the middle of all this frost and snow. She isn’t as embarrassed at being carried like a child when he’s so  _ warm _ and toasty, like a portable heater. And she tries not to fidget too much.

It’s hard to read him sometimes. He wears his emotions so  _ openly _ and  _ freely _ that it’s a little jarring when his face becomes blank like a slate. Most people in Ishgard aren’t that honest and that only worsened after the Calamity. It feels like they all wear stoic masks all the time, never letting anyone their true feelings or thoughts about anything. 

She’s so close to Masaki that she can  _ feel _ more than hear the rumble in his throat.

“The world is unkind.” he comments idly, like he’s talking to himself. “I wish it was kind.”

Rielle frowns.

“It’s nice to dream of a world without pain and suffering.” she says quietly. “But the world is what it is, and dreams can only carry you so far.” She reaches over Masaki’s shoulder again and taps on his greatsword’s hilt. “That’s why we’ve got swords.”

Masaki glances down at her for the first time in bells. She meets his gaze directly and marvels at the odd-colored eyes ringed in white staring back at her. They’re very pretty, especially when they’re shining with mirth like they are right now.

“You speak wisely.” he notes.

Rielle shrugs and fidgets. “Fray told me that once. So it’s been stuck in my head ever since.”

Masaki hums. “He was a good teacher.”

She feels her heart ache a little. Fray had been the first to reach out to her, to protect her. His absence still leaves a cold, empty space in her chest where he’d taken up space. People think he deserves to rot away in one of the seven hells for being a heretic but Rielle hopes he’s somewhere in Halone’s halls, complaining about the undoubtedly severe decor. Or maybe… 

Rielle works up the courage to sneak a peek at the soulstone, tucked beneath the collar of Masaki’s armor and emanating warmth despite the cold. (Maybe Fray is closer than she thinks he is.)

“He was.” she agrees solemnly. “He taught me conjury.”

This attracts Masaki’s full attention. 

“Oh?”

That sets something off in Rielle. She tells all sorts of stories about Fray, Sid, and herself. She tells him when she’d first met the pair—closed off, unkind, and clunky in the way most prickly dragoons tend to be. How they’d immediately opened up after Fray had cracked a morbid joke and Sid rolled his eyes at it. (Masaki snorts.) She tells him about the time Fray had shown her magic tricks in the Forgotten Knight, where Gibrillont and Sid looked on in mild amusement. (His smile is gentle and she basks in its brief appearance for a bit.) She tells him how she thought Auri were scary until she realized they weren’t scary at all after meeting Sid. (She leaves out the part where she thinks her own mother is scarier than any Dravanian could ever be.)

Masaki listens quietly, glancing down at her every so often to let her know he’s paying attention. Sometimes he smiles at a particularly funny tidbit or frowns thoughtfully. Rielle decides she likes talking to him, even if Masaki doesn’t say a lot. He feels safe like Sid. She doesn’t mean to, but she yawns and almost rubs at her eyes―only to remember the rust red flakes sticking to her fingers.

He notices this. With a slight shift of his arms, he holds her up in one arm and gently takes her hands in his other hand. Masaki blows and wipes away the dried blood from her hands, miraculously avoiding smearing any new blood on her. It’s such a considerate and tender gesture that she feels her chest suddenly collapse and expand in one moment from a violent wave of emotion overcoming her. Rielle clings to Masaki, buries her face in his neck, and shudders.

He pats her back.

* * *

It isn’t too long after that they arrive in the observatorium.

Masaki grunts his greetings, the guards easily letting him through after they recognize his face. There, he sees Sidurgu frantically pacing. The other Au ra looks up and nearly collapses on the spot before suddenly they’re standing a few ilms apart. His eyes are wild with fright.

“Rielle― is she―”

Masaki shakes his head and sees relief flood Sidurgu’s features.

“‘M fine, Sid.” Rielle mumbles from her spot.

Sidurgu turns calmer eyes to her with fond exasperation before they start to drift over to Masaki’s face. There’s worrying splatters of dark red on his chin and suspicious dark flakes drifting off his armor, but he doesn’t look harmed. That little knot in his chest slowly unravels at that. He did his job, at least. And without anymore reckless injuries too. Sidurgu waffles for a brief moment before he awkwardly pats Masaki’s pauldron.

“Thank you. For protecting her.” he bites out with some reluctant humility.

Masaki simply nods and begins to set Rielle down. She grumbles under her breath in complaint but otherwise lets him put her on her feet. Sidurgu ruffled her hair, and getting an indignant yelp in reply, before he finally faces Masaki again. This time, a swell of rage bubbles up in his chest.

“You were ambushed.”

Masaki’s expression mirrors Sidurgu’s fury as he nods.

“Eight knights.” Masaki mutters darkly. “They meant to kill us enroute.”

Sidurgu almost sees red. He clenches his hands and the hard leather of his gauntlets squeezing into his flesh forces him to focus. Guilt begins to settle in.

“I should’ve stayed with you. We should’ve never―”

Masaki cuts him off with a silencing gesture. “No. It is past now.”

Rielle fidgets and stays silent throughout the whole exchange, shuffling towards Sidurgu for want of familiarity. 

Masaki notices her discomfort and switches topics.

“We are here for information, yes?” He flicks his gaze towards the tall tower with no small amount of trepidation.

Sidurgu is quick to follow the change in subjects. “We should go.”

The three of them walk towards the observatorium, hoping that they’ll walk back out with answers.

Sidurgu’s rage settles into an old hatred that burns in the pit of his stomach. They will  _ pay _ for this, he will see to that. Just another reason to kill one more of those godsdamned  _ blights _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope the fight scene wasn't too much ksdfjlkj but im so glad to finally get the ball rolling again on this fic!! now to just... work on drawing stuff... :')


	6. interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> E-Sumi-Yan furrows his brow.
> 
> Sidurgu doesn’t like that look.

Masaki worries privately about Sidurgu and Rielle.

The astrologer had, at least, been honest about his evaluation of Rielle: somewhat underfed but hearty and hale for the most part. Back to square one until—

_ “Though… the Guildmaster of the Conjurer’s Guild might help you far more than I can. He is most sensitive to aether fluctuations in people.” _

Masaki frowns.  _ He _ can sense aetheric fluctuations in people and Rielle… wait. His brow pinches in thought. Rielle’s aether felt normal, if a bit strangely old for a young girl but he figured that there was nothing  _ off _ about that—he’s seen similar phenomenons in the horned hyurs of Gridania and figured that maybe Rielle was an odd exception… oh.

Oh. He is a huge  _ idiot _ . Masaki resists the urge to smash his head into the nearest floating boulder lest Honoroit or Laniaitte call a chirurgeon and he’ll be  _ damned _ if he lets anyone with medical instruments near him. But before he can think anymore deeply on Rielle’s strange aether, Emmanellain jostles him with an overly friendly slap on the shoulder.

“ _ There _ you are, old boy! Listen—I need your advice on something.”

Masaki grunts.

“Excellent!” Emmanellain says, casually placing a hand on his back.

Masaki tenses. _There’s_ _someone touching my back break his arm BREAK HIS ARM_ —

He quickly extracts himself out of Emmanellain’s hold.

The noble pouts but carries on with his spiel of trying to win Laniaitte’s with heroism and some other stupid stunt while Masaki fights to keep his hysteria contained under a thin veneer of stoicism. He shoves away the phantom sensation of a boot slamming down on the back of his ribcage. This is ridiculous. It’s been moons now. It shouldn’t hurt anymore. His ribs aren’t threatening to pierce his lungs, he took care of that a long time ago. He ghosts his hand over his ribs anyway to check.

“Old boy? Are you alright?”

Masaki snaps out of it and smoothly slides back into himself.

“Laniaitte says gather from those.” he says instead, jutting his chin towards the large crystals in the lakes that sit in layers atop of each other. “Is important work.”

Emmanellain seems to brighten at that and forgets all about Masaki’s strange fit.

“Really? Then I shall find the finest crystals for my lady Laniaitte!”

He runs off with Honoroit yelping after him in concern.

Masaki drags a hand over his face and sighs deeply. He closes his eyes.  _ Breathe _ . In, out. In, out. Then he opens his eyes slowly, hand still pressed against his face, and thinks about Rielle and Sidurgu. Are they alright? Have the made it to Gridania in one piece? Did they have enough money for the aetheryte? Or maybe they traveled with a caravan to Gridania? After all, Ishgard  _ did _ tentatively begin opening their doors… though Masaki isn’t sure if any other outsider—besides he, Alphinaud, and Tataru—is allowed through the Gates of Judgement.

He hopes they’re alright, especially after what happened last time they ventured out of Ishgard. But Sidurgu is strong as Rielle is tough. They’ll be okay, he decides firmly. They have to be. They’re too smart and careful to let a couple of Temple Knights cut them down. Masaki squeezes his eyes shut and tries not think about how vulnerable a young girl and a lone Auri man are in the eyes of Ishgard. He focuses on Sidurgu and his unwavering eyes and the way Sidurgu wields his greatsword like it’s a part of himself. He focuses on Rielle’s stories and her soft voice and clear, clear eyes. He focuses on their grim determination―and wishes they smiled more.

Briefly, he wonders what Sidurgu’s smile looks like.

No use in wondering about that. Sidurgu has never smiled  _ once _ in the time they’ve known each other. And, in any case, Masaki  _ should _ be focusing on making sure the boy doesn’t accidentally impale himself on his own sword. As… off-putting Emmanellain can be, he’s still sort of charming and endearing in his own way.

“L-Lord Emmanellain!”

Masaki rolls his eyes. Speaking of… time to see if he needs to save the boy from the local wildlife. He starts towards the direction he last saw Emmanellain and Honoroit.

 

* * *

E-Sumi-Yan furrows his brow.

Sidurgu doesn’t like that look. He hovers protectively near Rielle, leveling a glare at anyone who looks at them wrong. (How is this child a Guildmaster? And far older than all of them? He seems as young as Rielle, if not younger. And what’s with those strange horns? Gridanians baffle him.)

When E-Sumi-Yan opens his eyes, his expression is grave. Sidurgu  _ really _ doesn’t like that look.

“It’s as if her spirit is Dravanian.”

Sidurgu feels his blood chill. Rielle is silent. 

“What—are you saying she’s a—”  _ heretic _ , he means to say, but he promptly shuts up once he realizes what was about to come out of his mouth. He wants to laugh in disbelief, in horror. This is so  _ absurd _ , Rielle is just a child. She shouldn’t have dragon blood.  _ Couldn’t _ . He expects that kind of talk out of those bloodthirsty animals that call themselves Temple Knights than out of a Guildmaster. 

But E-Sumi-Yan is infuriatingly calm as he regards the pair.

“She may have not partaken in it  _ willingly _ .” the guildmaster adds, like  _ that  _ makes things better.

Before Sidurgu can truly explode in outrage, the Padjal quickly switches topics. This time, he addresses Rielle. “Forgive me, I did not mean to cause distress. The journey has been hard on you. Why not rest at the inn? I hear Mother Miounne makes delicious eel pies.”

Rielle stares at him for a few quiet moments and then looks down at her feet.

“… Okay.”

Sidurgu grits his teeth and bites out a  _ thank you _ before leading Rielle away from the guild towards the inn as the Guildmaster so  _ kindly _ suggested. When they’re halfway across the plaza near the aetheryte, he suddenly stops and roves his eyes to see if anyone else is around. No sign of any supposedly righteous knights wandering around here…. He doubts their pursuers would want to make a scene in a major city-state. Sidurgu turns to Rielle, his eyes burning, and crosses his arms over his chest. A second later, he plants his hands on his hips. Then he quickly grows frustrated and throws up his hands. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he hisses and roughly tugs his fingers through his hair. “I thought you’d at least…”

_ Stand up for yourself _ , he wants to say,  _ fight back, show him that you’re than more than what he sees in you. _

Thankfully, Rielle directly meets his eyes. Unfortunately, her gaze is full of sorrow and Sid has a gut feeling that she’s going to reveal something important and horrifying. 

She looks down and fusses with the hem of her tunic. Sidurgu recognizes that as a nervous habit so he tries to make himself less… intimidating, more neutral. Smaller, even. It seems to work for the most part—or maybe she has gotten used to Sidurgu’s rough edges—because Rielle begins to speak. 

Though he regrets what comes out of her mouth. 

“They…” Rielle stops and stutters, looks down at the hem of her long sleeved tunic, and fidgets. “They told me it was for the best. There were no windows… and it was always freezing.”

Sidurgu has to rein in his temper, his boiling rage because  _ who confines a child to a cold, lightless cell? _ (Monsters, his mind supplies easily, monsters that must needs be cut down.)

He is surprised at himself when he leads her to a bench and sits her down before taking up the seat beside her. Vaguely, he notices her hands shaking and carefully places his hand over them. Rielle’s shoulders seem to slump in relief and Sidurgu tries not to freeze up when she leans against his side. He fixes his gaze somewhere at the canopy filtering waning sunlight. (Sidurgu notes that they’ll have to eat dinner soon.) The pair of them stay like that for a while in peaceful silence, the kind of silence that speaks of understanding and comfort after someone bares their soul. Sidurgu isn’t fond of them, if he’s being honest, but he’ll suffer through one for Rielle’s sake. 

“I miss Masaki.” Rielle murmurs. Sidurgu feels his own chest ache for some odd reason. When did that bothersome man crawl into the crevices of Sidurgu’s shrivelled black heart with Rielle anyway? It’s almost like a sucker punch to the stomach except a thousand times worse because he didn’t even see it coming. He can’t even pinpoint when this…  _ thing _ started. It’s unnerving and he wants to shove the thought aside. 

“… We’ll see him again soon.” Sidurgu finally replies. Then, watching the weak sunlight begin to wane further, he says, “Let’s go see if this Mother Miounne’s eel pie is worth eating or not.”

Rielle snorts from beside him. 

“… Okay.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aarrgh i rewrote this chapter like three times and im still not quite satisfied with it but i’ll throw it up here so we can finally move on with the plot jfbffj
> 
> also sorry for the wait! school started and i’ve been juggling a lot on plate on top of looking for a new apartment. x-x


	7. interlude, ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He needs help.” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
> 
> And it is.

Masaki hisses when the chirurgeon presses a patch of healing paste charged with aether to his shoulder. 

“Oh stop your fussing—you’re lucky you still have your hide intact!” the old woman scolds and clicks her tongue disapprovingly. 

Gertrude, the Fortemps’ head chirurgeon, is an old hyuran biddy who observed the little lords’ births and subsequent growth into young men with hawk-like eyes and the countenance to match. Her gnarled fingers have sewn together veteran Ishgardian footsoldiers and tended to little children’s scrapes. Not even the most stubborn of dragoons can escape her “tender” mercies as a healer―nor her judgment as a stern governess.

She lobs a sharp glare at the rapidly shrinking lordling in the corner.

“I told you to be careful.” the old woman says, wagging a finger at Emmanellain while pulling up a fresh roll. “Thought that the Sea of Clouds was all fun an’ games did you? All because you went all googly-eyed over that poor Haillenarte lady knight―”

Emmanellain’s face explodes in red as he gapes like a fish.

“P-pardon me―?!”

“Pardoned,” she snaps back, wrapping the bandage around Masaki’s shoulder a little too harshly. The Au Ra endures his treatment with little noise. “You should’ve practiced more  _ mindfulness _ otherwise this  _ fool _ ―” she jerks her chin at Masaki, “―wouldn’t have taken a Fury-forsaken  _ fireball _ for your idiocy. And  _ you _ .”

Said fool is bafflingly stoic when the old woman rounds on him.

“Now what in Halone’s name were  _ you  _ thinking? Thought that you can just brush off a  _ third-degree burn _ like a couple of scratches, eh?”

She smacks Masaki’s bandaged shoulder hard enough to elicit a pained groan from the Au Ra. Satisfied with his reaction, Gertrude harrumphs and finishes wrapping his shoulder.

“There. Now, no strenuous activities. That means no sparring, no taking fireballs for silly lordlings, none of that duelling nonsense you pulled, and no more slaying dragons. You’re going to run our knights out of service.”

She promptly kicks out both Emmanellain and Masaki from the clinic and grumbles about foolish youth running themselves into an early grave.

Masaki just snorts and pulls his tunic on.

He spots Emmanellain jerking his head away from the corner of his eyes, as if the young lord doesn’t want to be caught peeking. Well, Masaki doesn’t particularly care if anyone sees him in his bindings. He starts heading to his room when he hears someone loudly clear their throat behind him.

The Au Ra, thinking little of it, keeps walking.

“H-hey, wait! Old boy, hang on there―”

Masaki stops and turns around to see Emmanellain frantically catch up to him, looking all out of sorts. 

The Au Ra grunts in greeting.

Emmanellain looks even more lost.

“I. Well.” he clears his throat again and fluffs up like some kind of strutting yol. “I just wanted to say… er, you did a good job. Protecting me in from those dreadful Vanu―”

“Vundu,” Masaki corrects him.

“Right. Anyway,” Emmanellain prattles on. “After seeing your performance in the Sea of Clouds, I’ve been thinking about your reward.”

“Don’t want it.” Masaki replies, and then continues on his way.

“But you don’t even know what your reward is!” Emmanellain protests, keeping up with Masaki’s brisk pace. “It’s only fair that you receive such after all your hard work!”

Masaki sighs.

“Do not talk in circles with me.” he says. Then he casts an assessing look at Emmanellain, who looks as though he’s eager for… something. For what, Masaki isn’t sure. “What are you trying to say?”

“Come have some drinks with me,” Emmanellain offers easily. “For a celebration of a job well done!”

Masaki feels something cold sink to the bottom of his stomach at the idea of  _ drinking _ and  _ alcohol _ . He keeps his face blank and pushes down the sudden well of panic and dread. Emmanellain’s eyes are sparkling with warmth, mischief, and honesty. The boy means no harm. And Masaki can overpower him if worse comes to pass. He does not need to drink―he’ll probably have to keep the young lord company while Emmanellain drinks himself silly or something. And  _ someone _ will have to look after him.

His shoulders slump in defeat.

“Where?” Masaki rasps.

Emmanellain doesn’t seem to notice his reluctance (and pain) and slings an arm around Masaki’s shoulders. 

“At the Forgotten Knight!”

* * *

The journey back from Gridania is mostly silent, arduous, and  _ freezing _ no thanks to Coerthas’ perpetual winter. Thanks Dalamud. Really appreciate the endless, godless snows.

Sidurgu made sure to get Rielle a well-made winter coat before they left and, if the marked lack of shivering from the girl beside him indicates anything, he’s made a good purchase (even though he has to skip the next couple meals now). She seems happy enough that she quietly hums some warbling, off-tune ditty once the familiar gates of Ishgard come into view. He hides a snort behind a poorly constructed cough. That earns him a pout and a light shove from his charge before she returns to her lighthearted humming.

For a moment, he can pretend that Rielle is just a well-adjusted, ordinary teenager and not a traumatized child on the run from her own family. No, not family―just people whom she, unfortunately, shares blood with.

And then Sidurgu diverges from the Steps of Faith towards the treacherous cliffs surrounding the city. He has to check to see if any of those corrupted Temple Knights are on guard rotation tonight―so far, he can see a few men from House Durendaire. None from House Caulignont. With a shaky exhale, he helps Rielle across the treacherous ground. Sidurgu pulls a grappling hook free from his belt and swings it towards skyward, where it catches somewhere on the wall’s lip. Rielle slips into his free arm.

He braces his legs and starts climbing.

About halfway up the wall, Sidurgu tries to reach a particularly narrow foothold when he suddenly slips down a few ilms. He hisses and curses under his breath. Rielle clings tighter but, to her credit, doesn’t even let out a peep. Sidurgu waits a few moments to reorient himself before resuming his climb. It’s long and difficult but they make it to the top unscathed regardless.

He lets Rielle climb up to safety first and, once she’s safely on two feet again, he swings himself over the lip.

Sidurgu lands inelegantly on his side with a grunt. Rielle giggles and helps him up.

The two of them peek over the other side to see if there’s any more roaming Temple Knights―thankfully, they don’t frequent the Brume but one can never be too sure. 

Only a few strays are wandering the streets below them, with the occasional suspicious character lurking in the shadows. Sidurgu makes sure to keep an eye out for them as he leads Rielle across rickety wooden boards and stairs that make up the Brume’s skeleton. She keeps close to him, like always, and curls her gloved fingers around his armored forearm when they near their sanctuary.

The Forgotten Knight.

They both breathe a collective sigh of relief. It’s almost like coming back home.

Though the tavern is a bit rowdier than usual tonight. The sinking feeling in Sidurgu’s stomach feels oddly out of place when he steps inside―but soon he doesn’t really think about that anymore when he sees familiar purple hair.

“Come now, old boy―a little sip won’t hurt anyone!”

Masaki looks as though he’d rather throw himself into Witchdrop than drink whatever that puny little brat is shoving into his face.

Rielle tenses up beside him and looks up at Sidurgu.

“He needs help.” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

And it is. 

He stalks towards Masaki’s table and loudly throws his pack on the table, specifically knocking the mug out of the spoiled noble brat’s hand and spilling mead all over the floor.

“Oops. Didn’t see that.” Sidurgu says unapologetically. Then he turns to Masaki. “We’ve been looking for you. Rielle got you some presents.”

He watches Masaki’s eyes light up and the tension melt out of the shorter Auri man’s shoulders. Sidurgu offers his hand, ignoring the lordling’s protests behind him.

“Oi, who do you think you are―?!”

Masaki snaps his head towards the lordling and cringes.  _ Cringes. _ Like he expects to be hit or punished. That creeping dark  _ anger _ simmers low in Sidurgu’s gut as he sets his chin and flicks his gaze towards the fuming brat carelessly.

“A friend of his.” Sidurgu says tersely, jerking his head towards said  _ friend _ . Then he grabs Masaki’s hand and tugs him away from the table. “We’ve business to attend to.”

Without another word, he all but drags Masaki along as Rielle skitters to his side with an odd grin on her face.

* * *

Gibrillont watches the scene unfold with an eyeroll and lazily waves the two Au Ra and young girl to the inn while other patrons try to appease the offended young noble. The bar owner has seen that boy wander in and out of his bar a few times. While Emmanellain de Fortemps is certainly one of his richer clients, the lordling somehow  _ always _ manages to cause trouble. This is one of the  _ milder _ incidents but it’s certainly no less headache-inducing than the times he’s started bar fights and the like.

… Though it looks like it’s on the verge of yet  _ another _ bar fight so Gibrillont has to put his foot down.

“Your friend’s safe, boy. Promise.” he grunts as he polishes a shot glass. “Don’t get your knickers all in a twist. Wouldn’t want a refined man like you lose his wits, yeah?”

Emmanellain levels an indignant glare at Gibrillont. He ignores it in favor of polishing the next shot glass.

“I’m sure ye father won’t like to hear about his youngest gallivanting about this late at night.”

Gibrillont doesn’t have to look up to know that the boy’s face has paled considerably. 

After the lordling’s hasty, murmured departure, the Forgotten Knight settles down to its usual sleepy pace.

Gods, he doesn’t get paid enough for this bullshite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been a month or so but here i am back at it again with another update o7
> 
> things have been suuuuper busy on my end irl. i'm trying to juggle moving out of my apt, final projects, and medical appointments all at once. things are on their way to working out but it's still pretty stressful in the meantime.
> 
> also this one is a bit. uh. hastily written but i hope i'm portraying the growth of their relationship organically... a looot of this chapter is in masaki's or sidurgu's pov and i thought that was fun. hopefully i can explore this story through the other characters' pov as well!
> 
> please leave a kudos or comment if you liked this chapter! :>

**Author's Note:**

> I could not stop thinking about the DRK questline and then I got feels so this happened. I love me some slow burns and found families, mmm.


End file.
